In Transit
by eccentricvagabond
Summary: Kol frees himself from his familial ties and embraces his favorite thing in the world: being a vagabond. On his first week of traveling, he encounters a girl who is all about the century that he apparently missed (what with the dagger in his heart) but ironically brings him back to the past. Story starts sometime after Esther died in season 3.
1. Chapter 1

Kol didn't expect his family to be fully on board with his proposal.

Klaus claims that he didn't undagger him so that he could venture out and see the world, ignoring his orders.

Elijah fights for the notion that it's time for them to settle down in one place and be a family again.

Rebekah, like the unica hija that she is, grumbles that she doesn't want to be left alone with the sore hybrid and the self-proclaimed responsible "dad" of the family—no pun intended.

He had seen this coming. But he isn't going to let that stop him.

Kol wants to see the art deco buildings of Paris, to indulge in the festivals of Rio de Janeiro, to climb the mountains of Colorado, to lie on the beaches of the Caribbean, to walk the full length of the Great Wall of China again—these among many others. He doesn't want live day to day in this pony town. While he finds a group of lesser teenagers struggle to keep their stance against his powerful family nothing short of amusing, it is not his favorite pastime. Plus, he's quite tired of American blood.

Of course, there is his family to deal with. He had missed them, sure. But the thing about their immortality is that he literally has all the time in the world to drown himself in familial affairs.

But he knows that if he doesn't play this right, he will end up being daggered again.

—

"You know, Kol," Klaus starts, "of all the idiotic things that you have done or propose to do, this is by far, the worst."

Kol rolls his eyes, his arms crossed as he leans his frame against the unlit fireplace. "Ah, yes. Of course my desire to leave this crap town cannot be compared to you leaving a dagger in my body cavity for a century so you could continue your pursuit of annoying lackeys." He says sarcastically. "I mean, this is a betrayal that you simply cannot look past on."

Klaus sniggers at him, despite the direct insult thrown at his way. "And what will you do in your life?" He stands up from the couch he is sitting on and walks over to the table bearing a wide selection of liquor. He pours himself a glass of scotch. "Roam the earth, leaving a trail of destruction in your wake?"

Kol shrugs nonchalantly. "It's what we do best, isn't?"

Klaus sips his drink before saying, "But you and I both well know that destruction isn't half as fun without family. Just ask Rebekah. She has always been a fan of bonfires of all sizes."

"Are you insinuating that if I stay here, we can start the destruction, so long as I'm by your side?" Kol perks up.

Klaus falters. "Well—"

"Hesitation." Kol jumps in, shaking his head. "I'm leaving. There is nothing to do here. We've successfully annihilated both of our sadistic parents. And that Finn." He grimaces. "So I am leaving."

"Not yet, little brother." Klaus says as Kol rolls his eyes at what he's called. "I still need you to do a few things for me."

Kol groans and walks over to the same table and grabs the bottle of Bourbon. He knows that if he would endure another conversation about doing errands for his brother, he will need a drink.

"You need to go to Denver and make an acquaintance out of the Gilbert boy." Klaus smirks. "I believe you've always loved the mountains of that state. How's that for seeing the world?"

"Hmm, let me consider it..." Kol feigns deep concern before smirking mischievously. "No."

Klaus glares at him and Kol is reminded of the times when they were still children. Kol would, as usual, wreak havoc with Klaus' daily activities and his big brother would glare him to death, believing the idea that looks could kill. Pity that after a thousand years worth of those, Kol doesn't cower because of them anymore.

Klaus growls, "Damn it, Kol—"

"Brother, if I were to come back to that state, I don't want orders thrown in my way." Kol chugs on the bottle and continues, "I merely thought you could at least grant me an exit from this chaos you've cooked up. While I am all for chaos, I don't want in on one that is orchestrated with a bunch of pathetic teenagers. I play with the kings and not the pawns. Besides, I presume you owe me after all the years I've missed, courtesy of your paranoia and temper tantrums—which, might I add, are getting real old now. You are in serious need of new identifiers, Nik. Take a hint and work on it."

This is the last straw for Klaus and he throws his glass towards his brother, who dodges it easily. He flashes in his direction but Kol moves impulsively, resulting to them just changing positions on opposite sides of the living room. Klaus grabs a lamp and swiftly throws it to Kol, who ducks, so it hits the wall, knocking down a painting.

Kol stands up again and laughs at the mess his brother had made. "Wise impulse, Nik, on going for the 200-year-old lamp that Elijah is quite fond of and the painting you yourself made."

Klaus continues to glare and flashes towards Kol but once again, misses him. That's when Rebekah enters the room.

Hands in her hips and an annoyed look on her face, she says, "Damn it, you two. You've successfully destroyed our living room and it's not even past nine in the morning."

"Speaking of," Kol says, "aren't you supposed to be sitting in a dreadful chemistry class?"

"Actually, it's biology and full of rubbish I don't give a crap about." Rebekah shrugs. "I suppose I could miss a meeting or two. Now, what you two are glowering on about?" Her eyes land on the severed lamp on the floor. "One of you better have an explanation and replacement for that lamp before Elijah folds up his sleeves and shows you a thing or two."

Klaus scoffs, apparently over chasing Kol. For now, anyway. "Please. I can endure whatever wrath he unleashes on us."

Kol waves it off, unfazed by the supposed threat also. "It was a terribly ugly lamp anyway."

Klaus turns to Rebekah, "Now that you're here, sister, perhaps you can relay a piece of your mind about Kol seeing the world again on his own—as he poetically and pathetically put it."

Rebekah sits on the chair, crossing her legs. "Still on with the jacked-up dream, I take it? How sad."

"But it's not as sad yours." Kol points out, sipping his drink again. "All those fantasies about a child, marriage, becoming ugly and senile and finally death." He purposely shudders in disgust.

Rebekah's expression hardens to a fury and a porcelain glass flies in Kol's way, courtesy of her. Kol easily dodges the vase.

"Touchy, touchy." Kol chuckles. "But yes, I am still on with that dream and going to pursue it. A lot has changed since I last traveled and I'd like to experience those changes."

Klaus says simply, "You know just as well as I do that I could just dagger you and put you back into the box, right where you belong."

"Dagger threats." Kol rolls his eyes. "I'll be damned if I did not see that one coming."

"Well, then it's established that you know the consequence if you are to walk out of this family again."

Kol smiles and walks over to the couch to sit, his arm stretched on the back of it. "True. But if I ever do go back to that damn coffin, I'll be ensuring that your precious doppelgänger ends up six feet under first. Then you can dagger me and deal with the Salvatore brothers on your own."

Rebekah, who grew bored of her brothers and is flipping through a magazine now, says, "If you're going to do that, I want in."

Klaus, however, is nowhere near thrilled of the proposition. "You know I don't respond well to threats, brother."

"Fortunately for you, I do. Which is why I will struck up a deal." He pauses. "You do know the difference between that and a threat, right?"

Klaus is still not at all amused. "Get on with this so-called deal before I snap your neck."

Kol smirks. "You never were one for patience, Nik. Now, do you recall a couple of witch friends of mine from Washington?" He cocks his head to the side, re-considering it. "Well, former friends, since I don't have a lot of witch enemies."

"The Lennox witches." Klaus says, intrigued now.

"Powerful line, that coven. More powerful than the popular Bennetts." Rebekah jumps in, still looking down on the magazine on her lap. "I doubt they would ever stoop so low and do anything for a vampire. Especially for us."

"I know, I know." Kol reasons. "Our track record to them is a bit far from pristine."

Rebekah scoffs at his understatement. The page of her magazine makes a crunching sound as she turns them. "They bloody hate us, Kol."

Kol waves it off. "Details."

"What about them?" Klaus asks, focused on Kol.

Kol's smirk widens. "As you all would remember, I, as well, bloody hate them—"

"How can we forget?" Rebekah drawls on. "You dragged all of our asses back to the west coast just to slaughter the lot of them and avenge—"

"Don't you dare continue that sentence, Rebekah." Kol snaps dangerously, all serious now. "I'm warning you."

Rebekah scoffs but stops talking.

Kol continues on, "As I was saying, before darling Rebekah shamefully interrupted me, I know we made a grave mistake of accidentally leaving a member of that coven alive, but it kept its line to go along through the years. They are, obviously, a full coven once again. I merely figured that they owe me more still so I took a little something to get you by so you won't miss my presence." He says. "Sounds good?"

"And what gift should this be, Kol?" Klaus asks warily and threateningly.

"You'll see soon enough." He looks at his watch. "It should be here at any moment."

Rebel finally looks up from her magazine. She says, looking hopeful, "You've got us a witch to play around with, haven't you?"

Kol grins once again. "My dear sister. I always knew you are smart somehow."

Klaus is smiling now also. "A Lennox witch. Now that is something that should be handy." But he turns to Kol, raising his eyebrow. "Tell me, how did you ever make this deal possible?"

"I have my own ways." Kol tells him. "I have learned from the best, after all." He says pointedly to his brother.

Klaus chuckles, all traces of fury towards his brother is gone now. Like clockwork, there's a knock on the door.

"There's the gift." Kol says and calls for the front door. "Come on in, darling."

The front door opens and reveals a woman. She's a thirty-something with light brown hair pulled up on a tight bun and wears a scowl on her face. She stops at the doorway in the living room and sees the Original family looking up at her. Now, she's no longer just irritated. There is now a hint of fear in her eyes.

"This is Faye Lennox." Kol introduces, gesturing his arm to her. "Faye, meet my family. Klaus, the hybrid. Piece of advice, don't piss him off. You don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. I have my fair share of experiences on that and let me tell you, it is never pleasant if it goes too far. I have another brother. His name's Elijah and he's in god-knows-what right now but he'll be back. You might find him the most decent member of the family but I wouldn't take chances."

Klaus sends his brother a glare and is about to retort but is cut off when Kol continues.

He gestures to his sister. "And this is Rebekah. Now, she may be the only female in this household but she certainly is no different than us. She can be a bitch if she wants to be."

Rebekah flings her magazine to her brother. Kol swiftly catches it and throw it aside, smirking. "See what I mean?"

"You're an ass." Rebekah snaps at her brother.

"So I've been told." Kol snaps back.

"Enough." Klaus growls at them and turns to Faye. "How, may I ask, did Kol even retrieve you? I was under the impression that the Lennox coven resides within their protective walls, to keep witches in and vampires out."

Kol lights up. "That's exactly the part that may spike up your interest, brother. Faye here was sneaking out of the barriers and to a certain home just outside of Seattle. A place of which houses her family. A husband and son."

Faye's eyes narrow in hatred but could not do anything. She knows perfectly well that if she ever attempts anything unforgivable, the consequences would be too much to bear.

Klaus smirks, nodding knowingly. "Leverage. Nicely done, brother. I see that you have indeed learned well."

"I knew you'd see things my way." Kol sits up, clapping his hands. "Now, Faye here will be yours to use. Back in the day, a Lennox witch is a force to be reckoned with but now," he turns to Faye, the smile on his face is nothing but sinister, "you're a lapdog for my family to order around. Just a pity that I don't get to do that myself but I do have my travels to get on with."

Klaus crosses his arms, the smirk still on his face, no doubt planning ahead on what he can do now that he has a powerful witch at his disposal.

Rebekah, as well, likes how things are looking up now. She smiles at the witch, "This should be fun."

"Well, I'm off. I trust the both of you can can explain to Elijah the new circumstances." Kol stands up. He adds, "Try not to kill her. Or do—I don't really care." He drops a kiss on his sister's head, chuckling at her annoyed expression even if she still no doubt appreciates the gesture. "I will see you both in the next...fifty or so years." He grabs his jacket that's hanging on the back of the couch and shrugs it on and he starts walking towards the front door, glad that no one is making a move to stop him.

Rebekah mumbles, "He'll be back earlier than that. He bores easily."

Klaus sniggers at that, finding it true. And so does Kol. Maybe he will be back earlier than he anticipates. But when he does, he'll be fully invested in his family, having pursued for his own gains.

—

Kol maneuvers his way through a throng of people in the very crowded airport. Overwhelmed by annoyance, he contemplates on feeding on people just to part the crowd but thinks against. That means a lot of work on compulsion and the security cameras and other traces of his presence. While he does not give a damn about a bunch of cops because he can easily take them down, he doesn't appreciate his face plastered all over the walls with WANTED above it. It would be a great disadvantage.

He makes his way to the ticket booth. The line is depressingly long so he compels his way to the front. When he does, he compels the woman behind the counter, "Which is the earliest flight out of this country?"

The woman dilligently types on the computer in front of her before looking up again and says, "Warsaw, Poland. Leaving in twelve hours."

"Ooh. Twelve hours is too long." He grimaces. "That won't do. And plus, I really can't stand Poland." He lets out a sigh. "Somewhere outside the state, then?"

The woman types on the computer again before looking back at him. "New York City, New York. Leaving in twenty minutes."

Kol considers it. In all honesty, it wouldn't be his first choice. No matter what people say about that city, in his opinion, it isn't exactly the best. He would have a few ahead of it on his list of favorite cities. Still, the top of his priority is to get out so he takes it.

He says to the woman with compulsion, "Give me a first class ticket to that flight."

Kol stares out of his window in awe. It's perfect timing that he had taken his flight in the afternoon. He had never seen the clouds this close before and he is thoroughly enticed by the beauty of it. Even with the disturbing shakes upon departure, he might make a pastime out of this, riding airplanes.

"Aren't you, like, tired of staring out the window? You've been doing it for hours."

He turns towards the voice and sees that it's the girl sitting by the aisle, a seat away from him. He raises an eyebrow at her, giving her the once-over. With the way she dresses—golden high pumps that he could imagine his sister would fawn over, a number of expensive-looking jewelry all over her body and a pink dress—he could tell right off that she's rich and makes it a point to flaunt it. But looking past the ridiculous ensemble, she has very delicate features, with her soft brown eyes and olive skin. She's actually beautiful. This should be interesting.

Kol flashes her a smile. "It's my first time on a plane, actually." It wouldn't hurt to reveal a bit of truth. He could compel her to forget later. If she gets the chance of talking to other people once he's done with her.

She giggles and Kol notes that it's more on the trying-too-hard side. "Really? That's, like, super weird. Do you have, like, phobia or something?"

What is with the word 'like'? Kol feels it's too bloody overused by the youth.

He shrugs. "You could say that."

She giggles again and he considers compeling her to stop doing that. The sound is getting under his skin. "I just did!" She giggles some more and Kol leans over, his eyes focusing on hers.

"You might want to drop the fucking giggle before I let my irritation take over and snap your neck right here, right now." He whispers, not wanting other people to hear. This section of the plane is pretty quiet and while it is not overcrowded, he really doesn't want to get on with the damage control using compulsion.

The girl immediately stops giggling but she still looks just as flirty and amused. She reaches over and runs her finger over his arm. She whispers, "So, what brings you to New York? Business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure..." Kol drawls on, not really answering the question but more like contemplating on the word. He is suddenly hit by a strong need for pleasure. And while the girl is pretty enough to fuck, he is leaning more on the blood-satiating variety. "Come to think of it, pleasure is exactly what I need right now." He leans closer to her, hovering over the empty seat between them, "And I have a feeling you do, too."

The girl grins wickedly. "We could go to the bathroom..."

Kol's eyebrows raise. "There's a bathroom here? Well, isn't that just too convenient."

She gives him a skeptic look. "Man, you really haven't been on a plane, have you?"

Kol ignores the question and just asks his own, "Tell me, sweetheart, where is this bathroom you speak so highly of? We need a bit of privacy for this one."

It's a sensation Kol is going to find a hard time getting tired of. He's been getting his fill of the same sensation for a thousand years now but still, it's the same.

Blood. From the vein.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The bright fluorescent light in the cramped airplane bathroom should have been too much of a bother. The lack of space to move around in, the circumstance of hitting the edge of the sink or the doorknob just by turning, should bring his irritation into far heights. But no. None of it really matters right now.

His hand roams the girl's back as he continues to let the blood flow from her neck to his mouth. He pulls up, taking a breather. He meets the girl's fearful eyes, her lips parted in shock but no sound coming out of it. She has been compelled to keep quiet, so. Kol watches her as she takes in his appearance: the protruded veins, fangs out and blood stains dripping down to his chin. He smirks and leans his head closer to her, his breath hot on her ear.

"You taste divine, darling." He says, almost too sexily. If this is under different circumstances, the girl would be shuddering in anticipation and pleasure, not in pure fear. He continues, "So good that I really do need to finish you up." And then without another thought, he bends down to her neck and continues on to his feeding. He listens to the slowing heart rate of the girl and after a moment or two, she is limping in his arms, nothing but a mound of useless flesh and bones. He perches her on the toilet bowl, balancing her head on the side of the wall to keep her from sprawling across the floor. He turns to the mirror by the sink and starts washing up his face. Got to keep up appearances, otherwise, he would be in a hell of a burden with the compulsion of nearly everyone in the first class section.

He fixes his collar after washing his face. He gives a glance towards the now dead girl, murmuring, "Pity. You would've have been damn pretty if you weren't so cuckoo." He gives her a gentle pat on the head and then gets out of the bathroom.

A flight attendant greets him at the doorway, a smile on her face. "If you could just go back to your seat, sir. We will be landing soon."

Kol returns the smile, using the version that's suppose to charm people. "Are we now? Well, talk about perfect timing." He leans closer to her and whispers, compelling her, "You will not let anyone including yourself enter this bathroom until all passengers have left." He leans back when the flight attendant nods. "That will be all." Then he returns to his seat.

Soon, Kol is walking along the crowd in JFK Airport. He feels a rush in him, one that is quite different from feeding or even sex. This is more on the subtle kind. But he likes it nonetheless. It's the kind of rush that he gets when he travels to new cities, with no agenda in mind other than enjoying it. This is why he loves traveling on his own. He can do anything he pleases, without his family hanging around, demanding other activities that they prefer to do together.

He passes by a large window, giving him a wide coverage of the New York City skyline. He walks over to the window and stop by it, captivated by the scenery before him. A smile is on his face. But this one is different than the usual. This smile is genuine, one that is all toothy and reaches his eyes. This kind of smile hardly ever comes by and he relishes on it.

This city is in for a treat.


	2. Chapter 2

This has been part of her daily routine, watching the sunset. Sure, she loves the scene of it as the light descends behind the buildings. It's beautiful and entrancing and she often finds herself lost in thought when she basks in it. But watching it through the tinted windows in her third-floor, crummy apartment in the East Village could only show so much of it. And besides, its beauty is not the only reason why she watches it. It's like her alarm. It tells her that she's about to start her day. Well, to be exact, night. Still, she hates how this dictates when she should start doing the things she needs to do, how she has no free reign on her time when the sun is out. She hates being controlled and no matter how much she worked to get out of that kind of situations in the past, this is something she could never get past of. She failed in this.

Stella is beautiful, with her shoulder-length, wavy and brown hair, ivory complexion, bright green eyes and a smile that hardly ever comes by but captivating enough when it does. She is the kind of smart that goes both ways: witty enough to be capable of catty sarcasm as second nature but also well-educated, with the degrees from Brown, Oxford and Columbia hanging on her wall to prove it. She is faster and stronger than a skilled assassin, with her set of highly-defined senses. She is ageless, forever the poster child for youth. She is a vampire and despite its intents and purposes, is a pretty damn good specie if not abused. But she is nothing if up against one thing.

The sun.

A ray of sunlight scorches her skin and she could only imagine what it would be like if she's to stand in the middle of the street in broad daylight. She'd burst into flames.

Vervain could hurt her but not kill her. Wood can certainly kill her but at least she can fight off any threats with that first. But with the sun, she could never fight it off. All she can do is run for cover.

Staying indoors and just dreaming of the sun reminds her too much of her childhood, of her former home. She spent the better part of growing up being held captive by people she couldn't believe had the audacity to call themselves family. So when she finally stepped out of that place, she vowed to herself that she would not be unwillingly bound to one place for long. But here she is, trapped inside because of the undefeated enemy.

This gets her thoughts reeling and she closes her eyes as memories set in. Images pan out in her mind, still so fresh as if they happened only yesterday.

—

_Stella wakes up suddenly, drawing a deep breath, as if she hasn't gotten a whiff of air in a long time. Which, of course, is exactly the case. She looks around, taking in the surroundings. Dim room with the moonlight only comes in from the small window on her right, metal bars around her, stocky air around her. She's in a cage in a room she's nowhere near familiar with. And more than that, she has this gnawing hunger inside of her, something deep and is begging to be untamed. _

_She sits up, pulling her knees against her chest, her fingers curling hard around her shins, nails digging in her skin. Suddenly, there's a buzzing. She shakes her head, as if it would stop the annoying sound. She snaps her head to the side and sees a fly. Her eyes focus on it instantly, the buzzing filling her ears in an unpleasant way. Trying to ignore the sound away, she faces straight ahead and closes her eyes tight. She tries to take deep breaths to calm herself but her fright in the situation she's in is overwhelming her. She feels tears trickling down her cheeks but makes no movements to wipe them off. She's too engrossed with the fact that she's crying. She hasn't done that in years. Whatever the situation she's in, however dire it is, she has always been able to hold herself together. Right now though, she's nothing but all over the place. She is not herself at all. _

_The door opens and it reveals a woman in her sixties. She may be old but she certainly can hold herself high. Her eyes meet Stella's, eyes that are certainly similar to hers. Her jaw is clenched hard as her piercing stare cotinues to bore over the girl. She walks into the room and stops a few yards away from the cage Stella's in._

_Stella's gaze drops to the woman's neck that's easily exposed by her hair's updo. She could hear the pulse and the pumping blood. Her focus is entirely on it for a moment. She imagines the crimson liquid and could feel her mouth water. Still, she tears her attention away from it and meets the woman's stare again. "Grandma? What's happening to me? Why am I here?"_

_The woman doesn't answer the question but rebuts coldly, "You are no granddaughter of mine. Not anymore."_

—

Stella detests the overwhelming feeling that her dark memories bring and sometimes, such as now, she could lose herself in a sea of it and finds herself drowning harrowingly. Words suddenly run inside her head, voices that she could pick out at any given moment and know exactly where she can associate it with.

_"No one is allowed to leave our walls. You are all forbidden to interact with the outside world."_

_"You are relentless, Stella. You may be of our blood but you certainly have never acted like you belong here. You are a dishonor in this family."_

_"You are a monster. You are an abomination and I will not have you here—I will not have you existing in this world."_

She hates the voice, the words. But however so, she could never forget them.

As Stella waits for the sun to fully disappear from the horizons, her fingers fish out the necklace from under the collar of her shirt. Her thumb brushes over the small emerald set in intricate waves of silver metal. The small jewel is glowing and so long as it does, everything is all good. As what she tells herself over and over again.

Darkness engulfs her bedroom, now that the sun is gone. This brings her back to herself, drawing her out of the gloominess of her thoughts. She finally obtains her cue to start living by her daily activities, nighttime. She tucks the emerald pendant under her blouse again, finding comfort and security in how it presses just above her stomach, right between her breasts. She grabs her coat and leaves her bedroom. When she enters the living room, shrugging on her coat, she sees her roommate, Kate, sitting at the kitchen counter, poring over a heavy duty medical book. "Hey, boards drawing near, huh?"

Kate merely grunts in reply, out of frustration.

Stella rolls her eyes. Kate is not a kind of person that could come off as mean, unlike Beth herself. She's just wired to ignore people when in the midst of studying, with her long dirty blonde hair pulled up in a careless bun and body covered in an oversize shirt and NYU sweatpants. Another of their differences is that Kate is human. In the three years that Stella has been living in New York, Kate has been the human friend, understanding of her vampiric nature, even too keen on objectifying it like the scientist in her—not that Stella minds. Kate trusts that Beth would control herself when she's around her. Not to imply it in the wrong way though but Kate was not naïve to go on board with the idea of a supernatural existing with just a few minutes to contemplate on it. She needed to understand and Stella helped her through it.

Stella is beyond thankful that her human roommate understands the circumstance without the use of compulsion, unlike before. This hardly ever comes by, true friendship, and it pains her that in a few years, she would have to leave before people start realizing that she's not getting any older.

It also helps to have a human roommate who owns the deed of the place so really, Stella is the only vampire allowed in the apartment.

"I don't get why you keep on studying all of this junk." Stella starts, nodding at the papers and books laid out in front of Kate. "When you could just—"

"Treating people with vampire blood does not make me a real doctor, S." Kate answers without even looking up.

Stella holds up her hands. "Just trying to make a point." She walks to the deny door. "Guess I won't be seeing you in the bar tonight?"

"Nope." Kate pops the 'p'. "Have fun though."

"Alright." Stella drawls on and then leaves the apartment.

She reaches the streets of Manhattan, taking a long whiff of the open air, regretting it when its infested with car smoke and the aroma of pee, vomit and sewage. Even so, Beth smiles. This is New York and she loves it. It's a city abundant of possibilities—even more so at nighttime. It is, after all, the city that never sleeps, which is why it's perfect for a nocturnal like Stella.

Seven blocks and a subway ride later, Stella is walking down the familiar street to Terry's Pub. For a while there, everything is all good, as it should be. But something is definitely not right. She restrains from walking, moving to the side so she's not in the way of people rushing through. With her heightened senses, she finds out what it is.

Blood.

Stella is not exactly hungry right now, being that she just fed this afternoon. And while she has a number of years of training to control herself behind her, even just a scent of blood is enough to draw her full attention.

She turns to the side, to a narrow and dark alley. Her eyes widen at the scene. A man has his back to her, slightly hunched over to another frame. Stella could see the girl he's hunched over barely, her eyes dropping to the stilettos-clad feet that are drooping, in danger of giving up and let her entire frame fall to the ground. She could tell that the girl is hardly conscious.

Stella may be a vampire, but she's certainly not the die-hard kind. She still has her humanity well-intact. She cannot let this stranger kill the human. Which is why she flashes to them, using all of her strength to pull at the vampire's shoulders. While the vampire is taken by surprise, he easily recovers and takes control by holding Stella face-first against the brick wall, holding her arms behind her and pressing her shoulders down.

"What the hell?!" Stella shouts, still not able to see who the vampire is. "You could've killed that girl!"

"Oh, love." The man whispers in her ear, his voice thick with accent close to British. Or maybe Australian. "You should know better than to get in the way of predator and its prey." His voice is eerily calm and collected. As if Beth's attempt to stop him is not a threat but a mere bothersome.

"Are you a fucking lion?" Stella snaps. "Because unless you plan on—"

"Okay, you know what? This is borderline childish. And here I thought I'm done of this crap."

The man lets go of her and Stella quickly turns around and speeds towards the girl, who is now sprawled on the pavement. Stella bites on her wrist her and feeds the girl with her blood through her new wound. When the girl is now conscious and can sit up, Stella tells her, "You will go straight home as fast as you can and tell people that you just got lost while going to wherever you're going." She watches as the girl's pupils dilate, a sure sign that her compulsion has done its purpose. Or maybe not quite.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, darling."

Stella turns to the man behind her. Her eyebrows raise at how cool and nonchalant he is with the way he's leaning against the wall and thumbing off traces of blood down his chin. On any other given night, Stella would have found herself attracted to him, being that he's actually quite handsome even if she could only use the moonlight to make sure of it right now. But at this moment, with the way he almost killed a person and be still so damn cocky about it is maddening Stella.

"I have compelled her to don't run away or make any sound under any circumstances." He smirks and shrugs. "I figured that compulsion from other vampires wouldn't work as well. Whoops."

Stella rolls her eyes and turns back to the girl. "You will forget what the man compelled you to follow earlier. You will also forget everything that has happened here. And, like I said before, you're going to go home and tell people that you just got lost or something." Finally, the girl dutifully stands up and leaves. Stella stands up and faces the vampire now, crossing her arms. "Are you insane? If wherever you came from allows you to feed on and kill people freely, then that sucks because it's not allowed here."

"Hmm." The man frowns. "When I was in this city the last time, I think I was a little more liberated than this." His eyes bore Stella's, a hint of amusement and mischief in them. "But then, I wouldn't let some vampire who, judging from the way I can easily overpower, has not even have at the very least, a century behind them stop me." He smirks again. "No matter how…exquisite they may be."

Stella scowls. "Look, I get that you're practically an evil spawn. Or maybe Satan himself. I would even bet, like, my own kidney that you barely have a pinch of humanity left in you but murdering people here is not only wrong but also dangerous." She says. "If there's even so much as one death because of drained blood, it will draw attention from people who made it their life mission to erase vampires off the island of Manhattan. Plus, I really love the East Village so I guess you get that I don't want this neighborhood to be under their microscope."

He furrows his eyebrows. "What is with the word 'like'?" He asks, genuinely confused.

Stella narrows her eyes at him. "Seriously? That's what you got from what I just said?"

The man waves it off carelessly. "People trying to kill me—nothing I'm not familiar with and trained for. But I will say that if I am hungry, I will not give a damn about people who tries and most likely fails to kill me. I may even kill them myself, if I get a second away from my…blood donor, if you will." He gives Stella a smile. "I'm afraid that includes you, my dear. So don't think this is over just yet."

Stella cocks an eyebrow. "Seriously? You're gonna kill me just for kicks?"

The vampire considers it. "Well, if that's what you think, then by all means. I, however, merely think that people don't cross me and lives. Especially when," he looks at his watch before looking up at her again, "you've wasted twelve minutes of my precious time with this petty and unnecessary conversation."

"A death threat." Stella sighs. "You can add that to my growing list of it." She shakes her head. "Unfortunately, you're gonna have to get in line with this one, dude."

He chuckles, but it is almost darkly, briefly at the word 'dude'. "Ah, the way people talk these days. I find it hard to decide if I will laugh at them or kill them for the ridiculousness of it all."

"Didn't you get used to the way language upgraded through the years? Or you're still living like it's the biblical times? I have a feeling you've lived through that."

"Believe me, I would have gotten used to contemporary things but I have missed out on quite the number of years to do so. Slept through it, basically."

Stella asks confusedly, "You slept for many years?"

He holds up a finger for him to stop. He says, "A question that I will not answer because I would like to avoid for it to used against me." He pushes himself off the wall and straightens his collar. "Expect me real soon. Ciao." He's about to walk away but pauses. "Hm, I might consider going to Italy after this. What do you think?"

Stella furrows her eyebrows at him.

He shakes his head. "Never mind. I'll just ask you again later." And then he walks away, finally.

Stella grumbles even if the man is long gone by now, having most likely sped away, "Psycho freakshow."

She starts going on for her night. Honestly, she should be at the very least, scared that a seemingly ancient and therefore, powerful vampire deemed her under a death sentence. This does faze her but not enough to send her mind reeling. She wouldn't call her life a total chaos but she always manages. Don't get her wrong, there is a part of her that is a little scared but her annoyance towards the man is pressing the unsettling feeling down. She always has been pissed off at threats rather than frightened of them.

She reaches Terry's, seeing that it's in full swing. The music is pumping through the speakers but it's nothing compared to the chattering of the customers happening all at once. She walks over to the bar and finds the part of the counter that can be lifted up so she can pass through.

A dark-skinned man with bushy hair and black-rimmed glasses is busy pouring beer from the tap and into a glass. Terry. He is the owner of this establishment and is a fellow vamp. Of course, he is the original Terry that the bar is named after when it firstly opened in the forties but to all mere mortals, he is just a descendant and is named after that mastermind. He greets the newcomer with a pointed comment, not even looking up, "You're late."

Stella takes her coat off and hangs it on the hook at the wall. "I got held up."

Terry slides the glass of beer towards the customer, glancing at her sideways, "By what? Should I be worried?"

Stella starts refilling a woman's vodka soda as she speaks simultaneously. "Nah, I just felt the eerie spirit of the bush on your head. Took me a few minutes to recover." She shrugs. "But you know, just a regular Tuesday for me."

Terry sends her a quick glare as he lines up shot glasses on the mahogany counter. "Watch it." He snaps. "You and I may be buddies but I'm still your boss. Considering I'm the only person in this city dumb enough to hire you."

"Please." Stella scoffs and pulls out a bottle of tequila. "You're lucky I even applied. You haven't had a willing employee since the seventies." She starts pouring the alcohol on the shot glasses.

The man who is waiting for the tequila to be filled furrows his eyebrows. "The seventies?" He eyes Terry. "I doubt he's even born then."

Terry sighs. He says to Stella, "Fix this and maybe learn to shut your piehole next time." He turns away to attend to other customers.

Stella rolls her eyes. "Aye, aye, Captain." She turns to the skeptic customer. "You will forget that I ever said anything unusual." She compels him and moves to transfer the shot glasses on a tray so he can take it with him.

And then the whole night goes on like a blur. It's so much of a routine for Stella. She has been working with Terry every time she lives in New York. The seven years she spent here in eighties and early nineties and now, the present. Terry has been a good friend to her, even helped her see her through with the newfound vampirism back then. And while Stella only works because of sheer boredom, she decided to repay Terry's goodwill towards her by working for him, helping him with his beloved bar. He has been a constant in her life since, even if she lived in other places for a time. He is her most trusted ally.

After the crowd has thinned to nothing and the bar is closed, Stella and Terry enjoys the silence of the bar.

Stella pours gin in two glasses and bends over to the small fridge tucked inside the counter. She opens it, revealing a stash of blood bags. She takes one out, shutting the door with her knee. She bites the blood bag open, licking the drop of blood on her lip and pours half of the bag in the glass and then remaining half to other. She watches how the red liquid swirls with the clearness of the alcohol. She uses a stirrer to mix the drink, fully fusing the blood and gin. She disposes the blood bag in the separate bin that is to be thrown out in the river later today. Can't risk a bag full of empty blood bags to the city garbage collector.

She hands the other glass to Terry, who is sitting on the other side of the counter, working on the night's review by the numbers. His left hand is pressing buttons on the calculator while the right is writing on the ledger in front of him. When he notices the drink set down for him, he nods at it, smiling without looking up from his work, "Thanks, girl."

"I make it a point to keep my boss happy." Stella sips her drink before adding, "Well, less pissed, anyway." She frowns at him. "Why don't you just get yourself a fresh-grad, accountancy major? This work is seriously boring. Not to mention, you're still writing them instead of using a computer. It's depressing how you delusioned yourself that technology is a wild beast that is ruining your integrity or some poetic shit like that."

"I like doing my own work and doing it the way I did ever since I started, so shut it." Terry continues working before he pauses, his eyebrows furrowing. "Hey, Stell, can I ask you a question?"

Stella sighs dramatically. "Yes, Terry, you're prettier than Madonna."

Terry scoffs and says after sipping his drink, meeting the girl's eyes, "Why do we have $1570 worth of tips?"

Stella shrugs innocently. "Don't you think you deserve it?"

"If it came from a week's worth of bar nights, maybe. But this is one night."

Stella rolls her eyes. "So I may have convinced the customers to give you a little more than the usual for the labor you showed them. Big deal."

Terry eyes her suspiciously before saying, "You can't win over my daylight ring by showering me with a shitload of hundred dollar bills. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Stella inwardly groans but recovers and snaps back, "And your hair sucks." She mocks him. "How many times do I have to tell you that?"

Terry sighs. "Stella, you have to drop the quips about my hair. Aren't you tired of it yet?"

Stella leans her elbows on the counter. "I like it better when it was long and braided, like the in nineties." She says, trying to feign seriousness but Terry could tell that she's just saying that to get a rise out of him—her favorite pastime.

"Gotta keep up with changing of appearances, Stella, if I want to stay in this place forever." Terry says as he downs her drink and closes the ledger now. He pushes the glass towards her. "Now put this away and get out of this bar. You only have roughly three hours till the sun comes up. Might as well enjoy the rest of your time out."

Knowing that he's right, Stella does what she's told, taking their now empty glasses and brings them to the back to wash.

Suddenly, the bell above the door rings, signaling that a person has come in.

Terry looks up at the man who enters the bar. "Sorry, bro, last call was an hour ago. Just come back tomorrow."

The man flashes towards him and smirks at his realization.

Terry mutters, "A vampire. What can I do for you, then?"

Stella, who is now done with the glasses, goes back to the bar area and sees the newcomer. She realizes that it's the same man who put her life in an alarm from earlier that night. She sighs and mumbles as he sees her enter the room, "Oh, crap. You gotta be kidding me."

"Hello, there." He says charmingly. "I believe I haven't introduced myself earlier. How incredibly rude of me. I'm Kol."


End file.
